


沇舞

by NyxSolei



Category: K-pop, VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Horror, M/M, Thriller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 17:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20429738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxSolei/pseuds/NyxSolei
Summary: Saving a timeless love, how does a prince captures the river, and owns it?





	沇舞

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from VA, written for A DANCE TO REMEMBER

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


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A dash, a swing and the silk flutters just slightly above the ground, using the wind to curve around a slim figure, hiding the true form of a swift dancer. Hands hidden behind layers of airy fabric, twirling and dipping as the moves become more dramatic, more bold, more attractive.

Sand rises into the air, lifted by the tips of a creature so unbelievably graceful. As the sand flies around, it looks like a thousand, miniscule parts of a breathtaking, expensive gem- the only kind of ornament that would fit the delicate features of a dancer.

His eyes are far, far away, looking at each person’s deepest and dearest part of the soul, attracting the watchers, those who have paid a high price to see a glimpse of an incredible artist that bears no name, except for a single character. Just like his name- the slim figure that moves in the middle of the stage resembles flowing water with the mesmerizing moves, until all movement comes to an end, and the guests are granted a bow from the artist.

There are those who would call a male dancer a heresy, but at this part of the kingdom, residents seem to care less. The dancer is confident enough that if he is ever to be arrested for performing arts, all he would need is a couple of swift, attractive movements to be released.

There are men that are born to fight, harness their honor in battles, and protect their loved ones. There are those who are born to become politicians, act in the royal court and make important decisions for the kingdom. There are those who are born to make the world that the gods have gifted beautiful, fill it with creations and arts, lift all human’s hearts and bring them joy.

The dancer is one of those- the ones that every single thought through the course of the day is related to the exquisite art those individuals create under the secret blanket of the night. Expensive clothes, ornaments and fans are often gifted as gratitude, and for those gifts, he is most grateful, as they allow him to continue to carry out his destiny.

However, the exotic artist has only one sin within him, and perhaps that single, solemn sin is what becomes the flame within him as he performs. Perhaps this imperfection is what draws viewers, what makes him differ from other artists and allows him to become so favoured within the kingdom.

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The night is a silent blanket to the naked eye, but to those who seek joy, excitement and hidden bliss, the darkness is anything but. It holds enchanting elation within the land and such can be found in teahouses, where arts are presented to sooth the guests’ eye.

Warm liquor and cold wind mend together in a graceful dance as dozens of men watch the artists bend and curve at the sound of Gayageum. The cries of the strings carry a dramatic story, or a primal emotion that simple words cannot describe- joy, sorrow, hurt, love- want. The dancer’s body is but a tool to bend those hidden feelings and needs into movement, and only looking at such grace, is breathtaking.

The night at the teahouse is similar to any other night- guests enter, find their spots and sometimes ask for more than just to see the artists from afar. Their money and pleasure is what keeps the teahouse standing tall and firm, offering to dozens of talented artisans jobs at one of the most famous places in the capital. The teahouse is not a simple stage, rather than an intricate meeting point of many important personnel within the royal court. Anyone and everyone who wanted to seal deals, spread words and simply be in favour of any of the royal court, would enter the teahouse occasionally. Guests would become regulars, and dancers would exploit it in order to gain their own favour amongst the paying crowd. Often, artists would make a scandalous act for attention- the reveal of a slim palm, the slight uncovering of lean legs, and knowing gazes that could mean nothing but fire.

The tallest of dancers, covered in fiery silks to match his warm skin is the most exquisite gem of the teahouse. As the royal guards march in to watch his show, his flowing moves attract the kind of attention he years for. With glistening eyes, the dancer searches for a favourite amongst the bulky guards. He cannot stop mid-dance, for he is meant to do only that within the teahouse. He wears a foxy smirk for the slightest moment, twirling and dipping the crimson silk in the correct direction, making it seem weightless and one with the wind. Then, a moment later, he feels a pair of glaring eyes at his back, blazing with sheer need of something that the dancer portrays so masterfully.

A lover.

The artist catches the unrelenting gaze, and returns a cheeky answer, a slight wink at the direction of the guard. Then, he turns away, snatching the attention to another viewer, before the music ends and he must bow gracefully, finishing one of his duties for the night. The crowd applauds, and the artist is reminded of the wonderful feeling of being drowned in love and affection of that kind. He likes being loved. He likes being desired.

“How much?” The same fierce guard, with chiseled chin and beautifully sculpted cheeks and nose stops the dancer, asking a question that should be forbidden for asking for a dancer is all he should be. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Five Jungbo.” The artist replies in an ushered tone, admiring the striking features of the man in front of him, only to be abruptly and aggressively pulled after the armor wearing one. If anyone that actually cares about the law within teahouses would have seen the scandalous behaviour, both men would have been arrested, however, having the royal guard paying for the forbidden, private entertainment, the dancer is fearless.

The armored one has quite unusual features- instead of fair skin, he has sun-kissed skin with freckles dusted over his cheeks, just below fierce eyes, round and speaking volumes that cannot be transmitted into words. Broad shoulders that the dancer could easily place his own slim fingers around and grip tight when needed. Long, long legs, but no longer than his.

The slim figure of the dancer is lead to a side room, the first room that the guard can find without hearing any noise behind the thin, paper walls. However, as soon as the guard takes a step in, followed by the one he had just paid, they halt.

“Jaehwan.” A boyish voice speaks sternly, a voice that is all too familiar, all too authoritative and fear-inducing. The name that has escaped along with this voice, is not familiar to the slightest.

“Prince.” The guard replies, horrified at the young man with the dark hair, ferocious eyes, and countless golden ornaments, sitting peacefully in the middle of the room, waiting for his usual dancer.

“Yeon.” The prince speaks evenly, and perhaps with some disappointment hinted, “I see you have a client.” He notes, rising from the comfort of luxurious pillows, “Even though I have strictly forbid you from having clients,” The royalty grits between his teeth, seething in anger quietly, with poise.

“My apologies,” The dancer whispers, although there is no real sorrow behind the fickle words, and that is the man’s original sin. Like the flowing waters in his name, the dancer cannot be bound to one, and the dancer cannot keep on loving only a single soul.

Love, is watery and indecisive, like dance itself, as it requires of long limbs to move from one pose to another, offering the sight to any viewer, and paying attention only to those that the artist wants their hearts. Hakyeon could never bound himself to a single heart, as he finds no fulfillment in a single lover.

Hakyeon is a performer, and when he’s admired closely, being loved, it brings him primal, carnal pleasure. However, when the numbers rise more and more, that carnal excitement into an unexplained, gushing waterfall of thrill and satisfaction.

This is the sin of the dancer, the one that causes him to be so sought after.

The one that causes for so much jealousy to spark around him, erupt like most violent of volcanoes, spreading the burning grime everywhere.

“There is no meaning to your apologies, for I see that you are bendable like the cheapest of papers.” The prince dangerously treads closer, watching his guard and the dancer that should have been his.

The dancer steps forward, arm still restricted by Jaehwan’s firm grip. There is no regret in his eyes, rather than amusement- it is quite entertaining to see prince Hongbin to boil under his skin when all that Hakyeon had been doing is frankly, his job.

“So I am.” Hakyeon replies with a smirk, unafraid. There is a very solid reason for him to be solid like that, for even though he has lovers, multiple of them, they all desire him and need him, and would never dispose of him.

Only sometimes they do.

“Jaehwan if you respect your prince you will yield and step away.” The first spark of jealousy surfaces, and Hakyeon’s heart is delighted to the sound of it. Now, it is only a game of will- who will be the one to concede and give up on the treasured lover.

“I have bought this man for five Jungbo.” The guard states firmly.

“I am your prince, Jaehwan, make sure to know your place.” Hongbin growls, “I will not have anyone disrespect me.”

Hakyeon glances up, joyous curves fold around his eyes. With a swift move, the dancer unfolds the fan that one of his lovers had gifted to him, fanning himself gently, saying none.

“Is it forbidden to buy men now within the kingdom?” Jaehwan growls.

“It is forbidden to go against your prince.”

“What if the prince chooses to set himself against his people?”

“Be careful.” He warns, “For I can lead to your execution.”

Hakyeon laughs, and both of the men’s eyes turn to him, scowling and enraged at the light indifference to the grave exchange that has been going between two of his clients, two of his lovers.

Abruptly, the delicate dancer is grabbed by the hair, and thrown to the ground, fan falling out of reach. There’s a cry of pain, and Hakyeon wilts into himself, terrified of the first time that any of his lovers had shown brutality towards him. He knows not which one was the one to make the painful move, but now both of his lovers are watching him with fire in their eyes, and for the first time, the frail dancer is afraid of the flame that occasionally is what causes his dance to be so successful.

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The prince takes pride in his home, for it is an example to all of the kingdom, and every intricate detail, every decoration added to the halls is an important addition both personally for the future king and for those who look up to him.

However, even in such exemplary households, there are secrets, and when the prince places two new china dolls, one next to another on another large, gold-embellished crate, there is no suspect, even if they resemble both a dancer, and a past royal guard.

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End file.
